The well has not gone dry,
less frequented maybe
by both the drawers and
the occasional passersby.
The stones are loose;
between them, mortar dissolves-
by clement or contrary
weather on seasonal cue.
The vessel is parched
and longs for its lover
by pulley once lowered
its rope frayed with disuse.
I like the way this poem kind of leaves you to think about the different meanings it could have.
Very nice. Wanting attention like it use to be. Good thought.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Superb write and the theme is excellent here.Well done Sir.